


Petrichor: About Witch Bradbury, Charlie

by flowercrownedskull



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And this fic is also fucking pinterest's fault, F/F, Gilda - Freeform, How about modern day witches? sound good to me, I aint writing this for anyone but me, I hope you guys dont hate the first person narrative, I seriously wish the writers would let the gay be, I wrote this at work while listening to Lana del Ray, I'll write more if ya'll like this, ILY, Lesbians, OH THIS FIC IS LANA DEL RAY'S FAULT, Oh and nobody beta'ed this, Peace, This fic is a result of too many aesthetic posts on tumblr, Witch!Charlie, Witchcraft is cool, kinda sexy, no bestiality ffs, pastel lesbians, so!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownedskull/pseuds/flowercrownedskull
Summary: This is the year 5621, blessed by our Mother Gaia.And Charlie Bradbury owns a shop called Geek Oasis. It is a constructive cover up of her Witch status.Aunty Rowena laughs a lot about the cover up part. But this is Charlie's story. So about Charlie...





	

 

Charlie Bradbury is the cutest redhead you’re ever gonna meet, I’m not even kidding. She has gorgeous big eyes and a smile that can stop devastation in it’s tracks. Charlie Bradbury can smile and tap a shaking earth with her finger murmuring, “there, there” and the earthquake will stop because she’s the  _ nicest _ .

 

Charlie Bradbury is also a witch. 

 

This is the year 5621, blessed by our Mother Gaia.

(This is also the year 2017 according to the non-magicals, so don’t panic. Not a dystopia yet.)   
  


.

 

Charlie lives in a cute apartment above her shop. She has a beautiful hanging garden that frames the long balcony. It smells divine because wild rose, lavender and rosemary have overgrown and formed a cute fringe above her shop’s entrance making it look like a witchy oasis in the middle of the town dominated by normal people.

 

Nobody knows of it as a ‘witchy oasis’ of course, _that would be absurd(!)_ as non-magic folks would say. Instead everybody knows this place as _Geek_ _Oasis_. Because to mix in with the non-magic folk, so as to not seem weird, Charlie decided to cater to the weird ones of non-magicals as a non-magical seeming weird human, because everybody needs a respite from normalcy!   
  
(Er, was that a mouthful? I’m sorry but you’ll have to deal with this because I’m convoluted sometimes but I’m also awesome.)

 

So where were we? Yes! Geek Oasis. So when you’ll see it at first, it’ll seem like a tiny, red brick place, with lots of green vines hanging over it, nestled between an electronics store and an upholstery shop. There’s a red neon sign which states, _Geek_ _Oasis_ in cursive and the smoky glass windows are filled with cute doodles of all things symbolizing Star Wars, Harry Potter, Hunger games, Assassin’s creed, Bleach, Star Trek… and ALL those geeky stuff you can think of. Inside it’s even better because Geek Oasis is a library-cafe--gaming cafe-merchandise shop-bookshop all in one! I mean, how brilliant an entrepreneur is Charlie Bradbury?! 

 

So when a non-magical kid, slouching with the burden of forced normalcy first enters the Geek Oasis, he smells coffee. Freshly roasted and ground coffee from India and Ethiopia and Columbia. When that lights up his eyes, he smells vanilla and sugar and chocolate and butterscotch and butter… And when that coaxes out a smile on his face, he sees the plush chairs in Hogwarts House colours and ottomans so fat with stuffing that they could burst and carpets so plush that his feet sink in them and warm yellow lamps hanging low from the domed ceiling and tall bookshelves filled to the brim, complete with staircases you can wheel across them! 

 

(Oh my Mother, I’m out of breath!)

 

So the non-magical human ends up staying. He might settle with some fresh butterscotch milkshake on his favorite chair with a book. Or he might walk further into the Oasis to find shelves full of ALL the computer games ever known to mankind. And dozens of 42 inch screens on which people would be playing some of those games. Now if he’s not a gamer he’ll keep walking and will end up in a quiet room full of tables-for-two with chess boards and some contemplative people with their heads bent low. By now he’d be so excited that he’d walk further and wonder in an idle kind of amazement, how  _ deep  _ is this place? And the Oasis will answer him with a giant merchandise shop full of figurines and fake wands and charms and costumes and masks and cosplay kits and fake tattoos.

 

All in all, Charlie Bradbury will chuckle into her palm because she’s happy to make non-magicals happy. She’s happy because she has enchanted the place to be big enough to hold many people and still be peacefully uncrowded. She’s happy because she has brought a tiny farm of coffee each in the three countries (India, Ethiopia and Columbia) that are run by pixies disguised as humans. She’s happy because her servers are all Naivete magicals from various cities in the US, who are interning for her. She’s happy because everyone who comes here is happy.

 

***   
  


Now you’d think Charlie Bradbury wears funny, long dresses in the colour of the mud and grass just because she was born with the magical sign of Gaia. But no. Charlie Bradbury is Charlie Bradbury so of course she does not compromise on the  _ CUTE _ ! That’s should be incomprehensible to you!   
  


So if in case you bump into her, she’ll be dressed in silky embroidered bomber jackets in pastel blue or peach or pink. Her favourite pea coat is pale blue. Her pants are light, woven wools in indigo, dark green and inky blue chequered with maroons, streamlined with yellows or dotted with oranges. Or she might be rocking her favourite black velvet skinny pants with golden roses embroidered on them. (Those are  _ my _ favorite too because they make her ass look DIVINE). 

 

She has three pairs of German elven boots and one pair of hand woven slippers for warmer days. Her feet are cute and pale and  _ freckled _ . It’s the best day when she lounges in her balcony garden with her bare feet up the railing. I’m telling you --The. Best. Day. 

  
On rare summer days she’ll wear loose fitted dresses with cats or unicorns or mermaids printed all over them. She has velvet bowler hats in all the colours of the rainbow and a wide brimmed black hat (only for meetings). Her makeup kit only has a long lasting eye-liner bottle that she brewed herself (slow cooked almonds with cucumber essence).

 

***

 

When I first climbed the lattice behind her shop to sneak into her house -- Now just a moment, I am not a thief. Or a stalker. Just so it is clear. I’ll tell you why I chose climbing the lattice over ringing her doorbell (which is literally a brass bell) later. So where were we? Yes! Her house. 

 

When I first climbed the lattice behind her shop to sneak into her house, I stayed on the window ledge and watched the inside of her home. It looked like a matchbox apartment on the outside but of course she had charmed it into a giant studio. The best part about it is the large dome on the ceiling which brightens the house as the sun climbs further up the sky. (Which it rarely does because Goodwill is a cold town). The kitchen was white marble with brass fittings. 

 

The kitchen island was large. It had brightly polished tiny cauldrons on tripods. There were test tubes with potions steeping in them. There was a rack neatly lined with beakers with essential oils and essences. There were small porcelain trays lined in front of the kitchen window sill, with tiny sprigs of herbs in them, drying in the pinkish, afternoon sun. 

 

There was a tiny pyramid of sandalwood next to a pestle and mortar that was daintily grinding one small piece into powder. A stone mill was rhythmically rotating leaving circular piles of flour in and tiny clouds of flour dust. A bell jar had some white cubes arranged in it which made my mouth water because they looked like sugar cubes but then my eyes stopped at the blue postit note on it that said ‘camphor’ in pretty cursive. Aww...

 

There was a pentagram chandelier hanging over the kitchen. But instead of lights, it had bunch of lavender and jasmine and dandelion blooms hanging from it. A giant crystal bowl held a pile of bright tangerines in it. A bunch of green grapes were draped over them. The open pantry shelf held berry preserves, apple jams and a rotating spice rack. A transparent dome covered a loaf of fresh banana bread. 

 

Her living room is overlooked by the balcony. It’s floor is covered by overlapping persian rugs in red and blue. There were big plush pillows all across the floor. There was a low but wide trunk that served as a centre table for her living room. There were handwritten spell notebooks stacked on it. A couple of reed pens roll off the table as the wind blew inside through an open ventilator. 

 

Charlie’s bookshelf is perhaps the best representative of her magic type. It’s a young but big ebony tree that paused it’s growth from crown up. It’s branches are spread out in a wide embrace across the walls. Their growth is so elaborate, that it’s hard to figure where the concrete of the tops of the walls and the ceiling vanished. The crevices in the branches have been smoothed flat to act like shelves. They hold hundreds of books, crystals and globes of all the planets. There are many mismatched tea cups and saucers balanced magically on each other. There are scores of scrolls in the shelves carved in the trunk. 

 

And on the widest shelf, stands a proud Sun-Moon globe set that’s softly rotating and revolving just like the real ones do. The night fell and the dark of the house was illuminated by the Sun and the Moon. I fell asleep on the perch of the window, lulled by the sounds of Witch Bradbury’s beautiful home.

***

 

I woke up when Charlie came back. The house lit up when lamps high up in the domed ceiling flickered up. She moved her fingers in the air like she was playing a slow melody on a piano and the pestle stopped crushing sandalwood in the mortar. She inhaled the fragrance and idly traced a few circles in the air, and the stirrer in a small bowl cauldron stirred the potion. Charlie smiled at the sound, happy with the consistency. 

 

She took off her red hat and gestured at an ebony branch with one finger. It swooped down obediently and took it from her hands letting it hang from a twig. Satisfied, she dropped her silky jacket off her shoulders. Her sweater was white, wide necked and sleeveless. She pushed her pants off and let them lie near her jacket. Her underwear was wispy white lace. It was a mesmerising sight… Charlie stretched and groaned. She settled in a deep pile of pillows. She gestured silently at something on the ceiling and a globe lamp floated down only to settle just above her head. She picked up a notebook and a reed from the table and began writing.

 

I watched her till I decided it wasn’t right to hide like this so I squeezed through the half open window and carefully slipped on the kitchen counter.

 

  ***

 

I was silent. Very silent, on the tips of my toes. Her eyes were sharp and hazel and unmoving on the page. Her reed was between her fingers carelessly. I knew she knew I was there when she started chuckling silently without looking at me. 

 

***

 

I walked towards her and didn’t stop till the pads of my feet were on the rugs. She watched me unblinkingly and a tiny smile played on her lips. I sat down right in front of her and she lied down next to me. Our faces were close. Our gazes were aligned. She traced a few lines in the air with her pinky and the balcony door opened by a bit. The plants and shrubs ruffled and buzzed outside. The lamps dimmed to resemble dozens of candles. I felt it all but I didn’t break our gaze. Not even when so many flowers rained on us. 

 

She sat up when they stopped falling. She magicked me a lavender crown, anklets and bangles of rose buds, and a long daisy chain. We didn’t speak. She didn’t speak because she was showing off her silent spell magic. I didn’t speak because in  _ this  _ form, I couldn't. (Also because I was speechless in her wake, as if we don’t already know that).

 

She softly draped the chain around my front and back. She made me wear the bangles and the anklets. Then she finally brought her nose close to mine and crowned me. The lavender brushed the mark on my forehead and she whispered a spell on it.

 

“Revela secundum naturam, o’ formonsus tu”

 

***

I blinked and the aura around me broke through the mundanity. It shimmered until I was sitting on the balls of feet. My hair was curly and dark again and most of it was flying into my eyes and my mouth. My skin was smooth and the colour of warm beach sand.  Flowers covered some of my body. Her eyes were glazed. My heart was pounding. Her fingers were paused on my wrist, touching the flowers not the skin. 

 

I cleared my throat. “You revealed me so fast…” I sounded so hopeful. But I couldn’t help it.

 

She blinked a few times and bit her lip, suddenly so shy. “I have been watching you watch me.”   
  
“Ah,” I felt heat rise up my cheeks. “Um… I’ve been untethered since birth. I thought was being slick.”   
  
“You weren’t  _ slick, _ ” she giggled. Her curls bounced a little. “You were the most unusual one though. A familiar cat with your colours is unheard of.”   
  
She silently spelled the balcony door close and fireplace lit up, filling the room with warmth and light. 

 

“I,” I ducked my head because I couldn’t say it to her face. “I felt your magic strengthen my aura… It was new and I liked you. For so long.”

 

She scooted closer. Her knees touched mine. I smelt her jasmine scent and leaned in a little before stopping myself. Oh Mother, I needed to calm. Down!

 

“I’m sorr-sorry--”   
  
“No,” her fingers curled around my wrist. I felt the flowers yield under her grip as she slowly pulled me towards her. A silent consent to  _ scent _ her. I leaned in because how could I deny my witch?

 

I buried my nose to the pale skin of her neck. She smelt everything beautiful to me.

 

“Petrichor…” I whispered. My hands moved at their own accord and clutched at her back. I immediately moved them to touch the clothed parts of her. She felt like home. I took most of her in, tethering myself to her. 

 

Carefully I forced myself to stop. I hadn’t had her word yet. I wanted her to ask me-- no. I wanted her to demand of me that I be her familiar. I was just a lowly thing from the Elder Woods. She was the most amazing witch of her generation.

 

I tucked in my chin and resumed my position, my butt on my heels and shoulders back. My hair was still in my eyes. But I kept my hands palms down pressed on the tops of my thighs.

 

And then I felt her fingers wrap my hair round and round, till she tucked them behind my ears. “You’re submitting your magic to me?”

 

My throat was dry in apprehension. My magic was binding itself to hers like Naivetes tie herbs in sevens for their first chandeliers. Small bunches in small knots. Slow and steady. Tight with innocent magic.

 

“Yes, my lady,” I was shocked I didn’t stutter. Her mirthful eyes grounded me. “With all my spirit.”

 

“I wish to seal this bond, to have you by my side, centering  _ my  _ magic and tethering my spirit to our Mother Gaia and tethering us to Her Bountiful Magick as… one. Are our wishes one, oh glorious one?”

 

I breathed a laugh, wet with tears. “My Lady of Magic. Our wishes are one and I pledge my spirit as yours, in this world and the hereafter--”   
  
She didn’t wait. Her lips pressed against mine and the lamps in the apartment glowed like they were suns. I closed my eyes and pushed with my chin a little till her lips parted and honeyed petrichor flooded me.

 

When we parted, the spell’s last words fell off our tongues, synchronized.

 

“... The witness is our Mother Gaia.”

 

***

|Raspy neutral narrator voice|

 

Now as Charlie Bradbury of Goodwill and her new familiar, Gilda of the Elder Forests, bond, I, your nameless, faceless on-entity narrator, will take over this story. Don’t worry about me. I don’t exist. I’m just a voice in your head. I oversee and tell it as it is.

 

Gilda is the perfect familiar for Charlie. Charlie has always been happy and content. Her magic has grown and flourished just because of her giving nature and the contentment she derives from it. Every witch desires a familiar. But Charlie never desired one with despair or pain. She desired one like a child desires upon a fallen star-- with untarnished hope and undeterred belief in the Goddess Gaia. 

 

That’s why she was blessed by Gilda. A familiar who’s not just a strong being from a forest of magic, but a Twin Spirit familiar. Those have always been the rarest. 

 

You’d always find accomplished witches followed by owls or cats. Those are highly intelligent animals from forests blessed with ancient magic. But very few witches bond with familiars that have the ability to change form. Usually familiars communicate with their witches telepathically. Gilda can communicate in both ways.

 

As this very moment Gilda is perched on the domed roof of Charlie’s home. Or rather Charlie and Gilda’s home. She’s still covered in flower garlands and nothing else. It’s a beautiful moonless night. Charlie is sitting right next to her and she cannot stop staring at this gorgeous girl and wondering how did she get so lucky? 

 

Charlie knows this isn’t normal. It is absurd to fall for one’s familiar. But this is different. Gilda’s spirit is magnetic to Charlie’s. A little more than how it is supposed to be with a familiar. You see some people find love in unusual places, with the most unusual people. With the normal or the non-magicals, it could be mentally taxing. They have limited awareness of nature. They punish themselves for being loving sometimes. Good witches help the self-doubting, self-hating ones. Like Charlie and Gilda would. 

 

They’ll kiss too much. (Like they are a we speak). They’ll kiss too little. They’ll love and spell love and spread love. The Oasis will bloom, of course. And if you’d like you’d meet them again.

 

Have a wonderful, awe-inspiring day.

 

|Tips a non-existent hat|

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
